Bottom of a Well
by Micer
Summary: Before Business Unfinished, just a little bit from the view of the Dormouse... pardon the lack of italics...


-Michelle Strouphauer  
  
'Once upon a time.  
  
Once more.  
  
Once again.  
  
It was dark. Wasn't it always dark? Even when his eyes were open?  
  
It did not matter - he would see the same thing he always saw when his eyes were open - no longer the inside of a teapot but the gray metal walls of a laboratory. The soggy remains of his companion the March Hare, ceaselessly submerged and assaulted with electricity - like clockwork.  
  
.Clockwork.  
  
How he hated clockwork these days, one of the things that dragged him out of the darkness, the warm protection of his mind, back into this cold realm of gears and scalpels, oil and blood.  
  
But it wasn't ticking that brought him out. it was footsteps and a voice, a soft familiar thing.  
  
That voice.  
  
Was it indeed their dear little Alice come to visit them?  
  
He struggled to pull himself up to get a better view of the child, to say something to bring her closer. But only another yawn and mumbled nonsense met his ears, no matter how much he fought within the back of his mind.  
  
"It's just a human." The female did indeed look like Alice. but she was far too old to be the child that had attended many of their tea parties of the past, not to mention quite a frightening sight with the blood stains that covered her from head to toe.  
  
The voices of the March hare and the girl mingled, drifting on and off into idle noise amongst the crackle of electricity and machinery. His head lolling back to stare up at the ceiling, darkness taking him into its fold.  
  
Marchy's voice spoke up once more, breaking Dormouse from his doze. "Where he deprives us of our tea."  
  
Tea? Does the girl have tea? He heard his voice weakly murmur an inquiry, and was overjoyed to hear the girl's voice approach his table.  
  
"And poor Dormouse. does he still think he is at a morning tea?"  
  
Oh tea. how he longed for even a tiny droplet of the scalding liquid. just enough to land upon his nose and awake him from this nightmare.  
  
Alice smiled gently, stroking the filthy fur at the top of Dormouse's skull. "I'll return when you're better, dear Dormy. and you can tell me what happened to the dear little sisters in their well." He opened his eyes once more, staring up at the green-eyed beauty - their dear little Alice.  
  
A splash sounded, turning the girl's attention away from the table. the March Hare yet again had been dropped down into the fluids below.  
  
"I am sorry dear Dormouse. but I must go, there's business I must attend to with the Hatter." She glanced back, giving the sleepy eyed rodent a warm smile - a strangely placed thing upon such a grim looking creature. "Do not worry - you'll be free soon enough."  
  
Against his will his eyes closed once more, and to his horror he heard her starting away from his table - there was still much to tell her.  
  
But you must take care dear Alice. the Hatter has grown far more treacherous than you think! He wished to call out as she started up the stairwell, but nothing came out in the form of well-wished warning. Only another yawn as the darkness of sleep warmed his mind once more. The rest of him screamed within his reasoning to call her back, to tell her to run, to hide - to do something other than challenge the Mad Hatter alone and unprepared.  
  
"You told her nothing - didn't you Dormouse?" The March Hare spoke finally, gagging and sputtering as the foul waters streamed down his face as the mechanism rose him once more.  
  
"There's nothing to worry about." He replied sleepily. In no mood for the Hare's chiding words. " I'm sure the Hatter will do nothing to harm dear Alice..."  
  
A laugh broke through the noise of the room, a rich growling noise - hardly sounding amused at all.  
  
"Oh, really, Mouse. So ready to trust and defend your jailer are you?" The Cheshire purred, interrupting their conversation as he slid into full sight, slunk from the shadows where Alice had left.  
  
Another yawn fought to overtake him, though he was sharp to struggle against the thick warmth of his exhaustion, not wishing to say the words that arose within him, wishing only to speak his true thoughts. He is mad. far more mad than we ever will be. "He seeks to improve us, Cheshire. It's our only hope if we wish to survive in this realm."  
  
The cat remained silent, gently jumping up to land upon the table Dormouse was strapped to, leaning forward enough that his yellow eyes were able to stare straight into Dormies ruhmey own. A chuckle passed through his silence as a grin surfaced from under his serious gaze, the warmth of the breath making the few surviving whiskers upon the rodent twitch in annoyance.  
  
"Honestly. you believe that he seeks to improve you and your companion? Perhaps your mind is far too tired to properly continue stringing words together. is it not he seeks to improve himself at the expense of his friends? Is that not the truth?"  
  
"He protects us." Slowly his eyes drifted closed, his protests drifting off into nonsense and simple rhyme.  
  
"From what? Unless from yourselves I would say that your guardian is very poor indeed -"  
  
The cat's voice quickly snapped him back into wakefulness, harshly the smaller creature cried out in anger, far more bothered by the length of time he had been kept awake by such troublesome matters. "He is far better than you, Cheshire! Letting your charge go heedlessly into battle -"  
  
Cheshire growled low, his glare making the rodent instantly regret his outcry, wishing he could crawl off to hide as the feline spoke once more. "That was in poor taste, Dormouse. My charge knows how high the deck is stacked against her. But one way or another - someone's demise will benefit all in this realm."  
  
"And are you to say that my silence is what caused Alice's demise? Is this the charge you place upon me?"  
  
"I place no charge upon you. what you believe you did, that is your accusation, not mine."  
  
"Than I am guilty of my silence and slumber, I am a creature of my nature. If you must kill me. heed what I implore. be done with it! For the sake of one friend to another, take your vengeance now!" Weakly he lifted his tail in agitation, but found the exertion too much and allowed the ragged naked thing to land limply back upon the tabletop. Again sleep threatened to seize him, his eyes closing halfway, as he whispered in a feeble voice. "I cannot face the result of what may occur from my warnings."  
  
But the cat merely shook his head, out of amusement or pity he did not know. "I will have nothing in the slaying of one - friend or not. I will not have that darken my last days, I would rather wait until you yourself are gone and than threaten my life with your existence. there would be no guilt than in taking your life in saving my own."  
  
"But you allow Alice the risk of being killed? All to save yourself?"  
  
"And everyone else, dear Mouse, you included. Besides." A cryptic twinkle began to show within his eyes once more, "as I said before she is too important to become one of those mad little things roaming the land, and worth more to Wonderland alive. perhaps to the thanks of the wisdom you shared with her."  
  
And with that the cat was gone, his yellow gaze disappearing like the sun behind a black storm cloud, black as a tar barrel the monstrous long dead crow of the Tweedles, the wing of a raven.  
  
Why is a raven like a writing desk?  
  
There was no room here for the folly of ravens or writing desks no longer, as the Hatter staggered into the laboratory, a ragged bundle of crimson and blue held haphazardly within his thin arms. Only madness and despair filled the void as the creature that only moments ago had lovingly stroked the remainder of his fur in pity, was deposited upon the Hatter's worktable.  
  
'Once upon a time there were three little sisters. and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and they lived at the bottom of a well.' Dormouse closed his eyes tightly. Not wishing to witness what soon would occur as the Hatter rushed in a caucus race for the proper instruments. 'What sort of well. it no longer mattered.' But even in the darkness, sleep and oblivion would not come for him this time. 'It no longer mattered for it had become their tomb. of treacle and tears.' 


End file.
